The Day the School Tried to Pimp Me Out So I Could Go to Winter Camp

So I’m like in the sixth grade and the school is having this one week long winter camp thing. The cost is godawful high, somewhere between $30 and $45, way out of league for my impoverished family so I don’t even bother showing the forms to my mom. About a week before camp is to begin I’m called in to talk to the school counselor, a gigantically obese Mexican guy named Mr. Delgado (which is really funny if you understand that delgado means skinny in Spanish).

Counselor-the-Hut asks me why I haven’t turned in the application to go to winter camp. I say that my family can’t afford it and that I don’t want to go anyway (as I’m antisocial and I don’t want to spend winter break with those motherfuckers I have to see in school day in and day out the rest of the year.) The counselor doesn’t believe me when I say I don’t want to go and he says payment can be arranged in installments as long as it’s paid off by the end of the school year. I decline the offer.

Two days before camp I’m all geeked thinking about all the free time I’m gonna have on my hands while those other suckers are on some nature outing when I’m called to speak to the counselor again. This time he says he has it arranged that they have come up with the money to send me to camp, all I have to do is work it off by doing chores at some dude’s farm. Oh great, they’re pimping me out to some dirty farmer now. Once again I say no thanks. Puzzled, Mr. Delgado says “There’s no need to be proud, this is not charity, it’s a fair exchange.” “It’s not about that” I say. “I just don’t want to go to camp.” They’re worried that if I’m the only kid who doesn’t go to camp it’s gonna ruin my self esteem.

So two days later I’m on my way to goddamned winter camp with all these motherfuckers I don’t like in the first place (they just went ahead and paid my way themselves). They said we were going skiiing. But it wasn’t that Wide World of Sports Agony of Defeat kind of skiing, it was cross country. You know what that is? It’s WALKING with skis tied to your feet. Dirty bastards! I can’t remember what else we did but everything sucked.

Oh yeah, and we had a singalong with some jackass who had a guitar. It was a song that went “There’s a flea on a fly on a hair on a wart on the tail of a frog on a bump on a log in a hold in the bottom of the sea!” DUMBEST LYRICS EVER! I could have been at home watching Facts of Life trying to get a look at Tooties cleavage. I hated the sixth grade.

Stewie sang the “Hole in the Bottom of the Sea” or “Oh no a negro”? (not sure which post you’re responding to). At any rate we really did sing that Hole in the Bottom of the Sea song at camp. I remember the lyrics to this day because it’s a stupiding repetetive memory song.

I didn’t go on a school trip until 7th grade. We went to Houston. Some Mexican kid name Emanuel smoked like 18 cigarettes at one time like in the cartoons, we took the can opener in the suite apart trying to work out a way to replace the mic that the teacher took out of the phone, and some black kid who’s name I can’t remember kept mashing his weenie up against the sliding glass door trying to flash people on the street.

Well they called it a slide whistle on Frazier. And to me anything that Frazier or Niles say carries the same authoritii as Wikipedia. Unless they’re talking about picking up hoes of course. I don’t trust them in that regard.